Ignis Tactus
by IShouldBeWritingSomethingElse
Summary: "You can't lift this spell, you know. There's no counter curse and they never find their mates. The witch always burns." Dark themes. SS/HG HEA...Always :)
1. Chapter 1

Words aren't flowing for anything...well except this fic. It's going to be about 8k and I have it half done. I know, I'm evil for the constant unfinished fics... Sorry

As a warning, there's darkness in this story.

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Inspector Hermione Granger flicked through the file and frowned. She rubbed at her temple, willing away the ever-present headache.

 _Miss Hortensia Abernathy. 19. Apprentice Auror._

Hermione tapped her finger against the attached picture, watching the few seconds of caught time. A very pretty young woman with dark eyes and hair. There was a blink. An uncertain smile. Her chin lifting and dark eyes fixing with determination. And then a repeat.

 _Excellent NEWTs. A proud student for Ravenclaw. Her scores in her first year of Auror training were equally excellent. She was diligent and skilled. Precise. Calm. A model apprentice._

So what had sent her screaming through the Ministry atrium that morning?

"Anything?" Harry plopped himself on the edge of Hermione's desk.

Hermione flicked shut the door to her office and recast the warding. Perhaps she should rethink allowing him through. All of her cases were extremely sensitive. Private. She couldn't risk their exposure. "I'm not a miracle worker." She closed the file and tapped her fingers against it. "I've had the file for under half an hour."

"So I should wait until the hour's up, as per usual?"

Harry smirked at her and picked up the round cat's eye moonstone on her desk. He tossed it from hand to hand, till she glared at him, and with a wince, he put it back again.

"We can't resume training until we know what set Abernathy off. She's brilliant. Will be an exceptional auror. It has to be major. And whatever it is, it's enough to have Snape drown her in Calming Draft."

"Master Snape, Harry."

Her childhood friend rolled his eyes. " _Master_ Snape."

"Is she calm enough to give me her statement?"

"He says so. That's why I'm here. Not that Snape is letting anyone near her. You know how he is in his little fiefdom…"

Hermione's lips pursed. Harry did so love to pick at Severus Snape. They were on equal footing now. Harry —though only 25— was a Senior Auror. Severus ran the Forensic Section of the Auror Department, an innovative wonder that Hermione would give her wand to work in. But she'd been shunted into the Ministry's Inspectorate. A place of paperwork and digging through Auror cases when they went sour.

She'd been hand-picked by the Minister himself. But her job made her very few friends. Only Harry ever voluntarily entered her office. And so she put up with his digs at Severus Snape. Even as they formed an uncomfortable curl in her belly.

She sealed the file, pushed back her chair and stood. "I will brave his displeasure."

Harry snorted. "Rather you than me." He stood and straightened his deep red Auror robes. "I'll walk you down."

A fist tightened around her heart. At least with Harry at her side the sneers and hard glares would stop. No auror trusted the Inspectorate. But Hermione could live with the whispers and the glares as she was determined to keep all aurors clean. No dark magic would slip into the Department on _her_ watch.

The Auror Department was a candlelit cavern of desks and zipping memos. Hermione's heels clacked against the stone floor, her chin lifted, every movement smooth and certain. In those moments, with hard eyes on her and mutters quietened by Harry's presence, she drew on her Inner-Snape. His stalking presence through the corridors of Hogwarts, strong and not giving any fucks for who was around him. It was her carapace. Not that she'd ever share her inspiration with Harry, or –Merlin, forbid— the man himself.

Though just once, she wanted to give into the temptation of wearing billowing subfusc.

Harry stopped at the wide, wooden doors of the Forensic Section. He frowned at the wards guarding the department. "I'll leave you here."

"You're old enough to stop these games, you know, Harry."

He shrugged and the edge of pink touched his cheeks. "I can't help myself. I know how he behaved was all an act. I _know_ that."

"But the little Firstie in you doesn't believe it…here."

She poked him in the chest. She didn't want to point out that Severus never started these spats. It was always Harry. And she also didn't point out that he was echoing his father and Sirius in picking on Severus for no reason. She held back a wince. It was cowardly of her, but she didn't want to lose the only person who spoke to her during her working day.

"At least count to ten next time. Then ten more."

Harry held up his hands. "I will. Honest, Mione. But it's the eyebrow. That lifts…and this red mist just _falls_..."

She slapped him on the arm and ushered him back to his beloved aurors. "I'll let you know if I find something with Apprentice Abernathy." She glanced at her watch. It was approaching the end of her shift. "Unless urgent, it'll probably be in the morning now."

"Whatever you can get, Mione." And he strode away without a backwards glance.

Hermione pressed her wand-tip to the shimmer of the wards. "Inspector Granger to see Master Snape."

Wood groaned and for a moment, the wards slunk back as the doors swung inwards. Hermione quickly stepped through. Everyone permitted to enter Forensics was all too aware that Severus' wards had a nasty kick when they snapped back. She'd heard the tales of those who dawdled and then found themselves half way up a mountain in Wales.

The room beyond was bright and clean, arcane equipment in brass and iron perched on marble topped tables. Fresh air, with the hints of grass and woodland, moved around her, easing the strain in her flesh, the tight tension that always, _always_ gripped her.

Her shoulders dropped and the nagging bite of a headache eased away. It was why she ached to work in Forensics. She felt herself there. She was certain Hogwarts was the last time she'd been anything but a coil of nervous, burning tension.

"Inspector Granger."

Severus' voice –still a warm, velvet bliss despite that thrice-damned snake— flowed through her. Her smile was easy. Yes, he always had such an effect on her. She'd given up fighting it.

Severus Snape hadn't changed down the years. Still the tall, slim man, dressed in form-fitting black. Though his hair now shone and his pale skin gleamed with health. Endless black eyes fixed on her and she fought down the ever present need to blush…

There was a speck of something on his shoulder and her fingers itched to brush it away.

Hermione shoved her need down. The ache to touch him always twitched through her. But he would not welcome anything from her, one of the ignorant Golden Trio. "Master Snape." She gave him a respectful nod. "You no doubt know why I'm here."

"I do. You may have ten minutes with Miss Abernathy. A team from St Mungo's is due to pick her up."

Hermione frowned. "Is it that serious?"

Severus ushered her to one of the side rooms. "Precautionary as to the curse. If that is what it is. I cannot discern what caused her reaction. Which, in itself, is worrying. There is no trace of dark magic. No hint of a hex or said curse. She ingested nothing that caused her symptoms…" He shook his head. "Miss Abernathy has indicated she will talk to you." His fingers caught in his hair and his face tightened. "I also believe…she has been assaulted."

Hermione nodded and followed Severus into the small room. It was comfortable, with soft rugs and deep, leather armchairs, the walls darkened and only the glow of pale candlelit flickering from a single shelf.

Hortensia Abernathy sat in one of the armchairs, her eyes glazed. A slow smile drew across her face. "Inspector Granger." Her blown gaze flitted to Severus and something shadowed there, fighting even the powerful potion he'd fed her. Fuck, Severus was right in his belief.

Hermione twitched a smile to the tall man beside her. "Could you give us a moment, please?"

Severus inclined his head, his expression blank and he glided from the room.

Hermione sat, the file on her lap, and presented the young woman with a sure smile. "How can I help you, Apprentice Abernathy?"

"I can feel it. Under my skin. Something tight, burning. Not fire…but hot and fierce. All week it's been there. It burst over me on the trials today, when, when…" She caught her fingers in her hair, her eyes clearing. Her mouth thinned. "Auror Carrasco cornered me. Said he'd been watching me. That I was…his now. He'd made sure of it."

Hermione's stomach dropped. Carrasco was a thug of a wizard. Old guard. He'd slipped by her twice now on charges of theft and brutality. She'd hoped there'd not be a third time to catch him.

Hortensia pulled in a heavy breath, strain tightening her fingers in her loose hair.

No, he'd not get away this time.

"He pushed himself against me. I felt…I felt his…" The young auror pressed her lips together, but then straightened in the chair. "He…groped me and tried to kiss me. That's when fire flashed under my skin. An inferno. Threw the bastard into the dark. And I ran. But the fire hasn't gone. It's still there. What did he do to me, Inspector?"

"We don't know, Hortensia. But I will find out. I promise you." Hermione dug parchment and a quill from her pocket. "When did your feeling of fire begin?"

The young woman frowned. "Tuesday afternoon. But in the morning briefing, something happened. I was near the front." She closed her eyes. "Carrasco was…behind me. And to my left. Grumbling and hungover. As the briefing ended, my left calf cramped. A deep _revelio_ showed nothing and I didn't give it another thought."

It was a relief to work with a Ravenclaw. The young auror had already fixed the beginning of Carrasco's attack.

"Master Snape did a thorough sweep. Nothing appeared. But I know that was the moment. The fire came only hours after."

Hermione nodded. "It exploded out against Auror Carrasco. Did it flare or ease, this fire, at all over the week?"

A hint of a smile tugged at the young Auror's mouth. "In the new bakery, just off Diagon Alley. I stop in there to grab my breakfast. It's…" She drew in a long easing breath, the tightness palpably fading from her. "I feel as if I can breathe in there."

"You're aware that Master Snape has recommended you stay overnight in St Mungo's?"

Hortensia nodded. "I doubt they'll know more revealing spells than him, but it is procedure."

A knock at the door made her twitch and Hermione moved to answer it. "I'll be right back." She slipped outside to find Severus with two healers. Two women, she was glad to see. She took the senior healer to one said and explained there was a possible curse as well as Abernathy suffering a sexual assault. She watched them leave with the young auror, a protecting shield blocking against any nosy auror or Ministry official.

Hermione let out a long breath and caught her fingers in her wild, end-of-the-day hair. "Bastard Carrasco. I will get him this time."

Severus frowned. "He cursed and attacked her?"

She nodded. "But whatever he cursed her with, rebounded on him."

The Potion Master's lips pursed. "Then it was some form of Tactus curse."

Hermione almost groaned. Shit. "Yes, very probably. And they are impossible to prove in the flesh." But Wizarding law made any _proven_ use of them a mandatory ten years in Azkaban.

"I believe in the case of assault, veritaserum is mandated."

"He's immune." Hermione grated out the two words. "And proud of it."

A dark smile ticked up the corner of Severus' mouth and heat bloomed in Hermione's chest. She couldn't explain the need that often flushed her. Something that had been bubbling deep in her flesh for so long that she couldn't remember a time when she didn't hold an ache for her former professor.

"No doubt Carrasco has been dosing himself for years to gain that immunity. He will not, however, be immune to my recent —patented and severely restricted— new version of the truth potion."

Hermione bit her lip to deny a girlish squeal, and for a moment –a brief, hot little moment— she thought Severus' gaze delayed on her mouth.

 _Wishful thinking_. She'd borne witness to the ridiculously beautiful witches Severus Snape, the brooding and brilliant Dark Hero and recipient of an Order of Merlin, First Class, commanded now with an idle snap of his fingers. A hopelessly inexperienced, still bushy-haired know-it-all had little chance with him.

She shoved her mind back to Hortensia. "How long will it take you to brew?"

"I have a single vial. One dose." His gaze narrowed on the doors Abernathy had passed through. "Secure him, Inspector. I have the authority to administer the potion." His dark eyes grew cold. "And nothing would give me more pleasure."

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Let me know what you think! :)


	2. Chapter 2

Happy New Year! Hope everyone's not too hungover this morning/afternoon/evening... :)

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Hermione pulled out the chair, metal legs dragging against the stone floor. The interrogation room was small, just two chairs and a table in a black-tiled room and the air heavy with the metal stink of cleaning spells. Her gaze flicked to the side. And old habit. The walls were charmed to record and display to watching aurors every moment of the interrogation within.

"Good evening, Auror Carrasco."

Nicholas Carrasco was a blond hulk of a wizard. He lounged back in his chair, relaxing to deny the pinch of the securing shield. There was a hatefully smug expression tightening his features as a thick finger tapped his smirking mouth. "So _eager_ to see me today, Granger you had to drag me from my bed? You should've said. Every auror agrees you're in need of...loosening up."

Ice blue eyes flicked over her and the familiar knot of tension in her flesh flared. She shoved it back. Harry himself had dragged the unrepentant wizard from his bed. Carrasco hadn't even tried to hide. He obviously saw it as Abernathy's word against his, and as a Senior Auror, he believed his view of events would be taken as truth.

The bastard didn't know about Severus' new serum. And that thought ticked a smile up at the corner of her mouth.

 _She had him._

Something flickered in Carrasco's eyes. Had her smile unsettled him? Good. Fucker.

Hermione sat and smoothed a hand over her robes. A swirl of magic opened her file. "You are charged with cursing and attacking Apprentice Auror, Hortensia Abernathy." She looked up. "For using a Tactus curse, the minimum mandatory sentence is ten years." Her smile was sure and cool. "You won't escape this charge."

The auror huffed a laugh. "You're scraping the bottom of the cauldron, Granger. Hortensia is a sweet little tease. She's been caught fooling around with a Senior Auror and has panicked." He shook his head. "And trying to pin a tactus on me? Please…"

Hermione ignored his attempts to explain his crime away as a lover's tiff. "In a case of alleged assault, the use of veritaserum is mandated."

Carrasco's eyes gleamed. "I understand."

A door melted into the flatness of the tiled wall behind the auror. It opened on a slow creak and Severus Snape flowed into the room. Warmth bloomed through Hermione's chest, the sharp edge of her headache easing back. "Master Snape, please administer the correct dose."

His face impassive, Severus tilted the auror's head back with long, pale fingers. The tiny ampule of enhanced serum gleamed in the magical light of the interrogation room. Hermione's heart thudded. She would finally get the monster thrown out of the Auror Department. _Finally_.

Carrasco opened his mouth without prompting, sure that he would escape the effects of the potion as he had many times before. A single, fat drop landed on his tongue and Severus tapped the other wizard's jaw up. The auror swallowed in reflex.

A cold smile touched Severus' mouth and he stepped back. But he didn't leave.

Hermione sat forward. "Please state your full name."

"Nicholas Pluvius Carrasco."

There was still that smug turn to his voice. He didn't know his world was about to end.

"Did you curse Apprentice Hortensia Abernathy?"

"Yes."

Shock smashed across the auror's face and he jerked against the shield. It flared and cut hard into his flesh, reacting to his sudden movement. Severus dropped a heavy hand on the wizard's shoulder and shoved him back into his seat. Hard.

Hermione looked to him, and Severus stepped away again with a polite nod. She kept her own smug smile from her face. "Why did you curse her?"

Carrasco's mouth thinned, straining white as he battled the power of the potion demanding the truth from him. "I wanted her." He slapped a hand to his mouth, but it jerked away. He had to reveal all. Clearly and succinctly. "Wanted to fuck her. Wanted her for myself. Just me."

His neck bulged, skin mottling as he fought to rail against Hermione. But he could only answer her questions…and offer nothing else. Severus' changes to the potion were pure genius. But then that should be a given.

"Which curse did you use?"

The auror squirmed in his chair, the metal legs grinding against the floor. He knew this would seal his fate and he fought it. "Ig…Ignis Tactus."

Hermione frowned. She'd never heard of such a curse. It translated as Burning Touch. She looked to Severus and there was a hard light in his eyes. So he knew of it… Still, she needed the confession from the wizard before her. "And what does this curse do?"

Carrasco slumped in his seat, the fight running from him. He'd bought himself ten years in Azkaban with his use of a tactus curse. There was little point in tearing himself up in denying the truth now. "It's dark magic. Cast, it marks the witch or wizard as bound to the flesh of their soul-mate. Only their soul-mate can ease the fire in their blood."

Hermione stared at him in disbelief. "And you believed that you – _you?_ — were Apprentice Abernathy's soul-mate?"

He glared at her. "Yes."

"Have you used it on anyone else?"

Something slid through his eyes. A cold derision. "No."

Did he think he deserved someone as bright and beautiful as Abernathy? With his sense of superiority, of privilege and entitlement, there was little doubt he did. And now all that privilege could keep him warm in a nice little Azkaban cell.

But this spell wasn't widely known. He hadn't used it more than once, but had others? Hermione had to pin that down and make certain no other witch or wizard had fallen before it.

"Where did you learn of this spell?"

Carrasco's head snapped up. Something flared in his eyes then, a bright wickedness, something so quick that Hermione wasn't prepared as he declared with a sharp grin, "Ronald Bilius Weasley."

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Let me know what you think! :)

And I know, Ron bashing... But I'm simply starting the year as I mean to go on... *mwahaha*


	3. Chapter 3

This is half way through. Yes, it's a short fic, this one! ;-)

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Hermione blinked. Ron? Ron knew of this spell? How the bloody hell did Ron –books, I don't read _books—_ Weasley find something so obscure and dark? He wasn't an auror, as he'd never made it through the apprenticeship. He ran the Weasley franchise in Hogsmeade. The only thing murky in his life was a stray case of Peruvian Darkness Powder…

Severus' eyes were on her. Sure and stern. Yes… She pulled her thoughts in. She was still interrogating Carrasco.

"When did…Mr Weasley share this information?"

"A week Monday. We had drinks in the Three Broomsticks. Swapping stories about Hogwarts. About pranks and spells."

Hermione frowned. Ron was _friends_ with this bastard? Her own friendship with Ron had fallen away down the years -he made her head ache _more_ than he had at school, if that were possible- but for him to be drinking pals with a shit of wizard such as Nicholas Carrasco? Who had he become?

"And do you often spend time with Mr Weasley? How did you meet?"

There was a smile on the auror's face now. He _knew_ he was grinding in a wand to her throat. "Regular stand of Monday nights. Sometimes Saturdays depending on my shifts. We first met in the back bar of the Blue Witch."

His pale eyes gleamed and Hermione stiffened. The Blue Witch was an infamous brothel in one of the ginnels off Knockturn Alley.

"Shared a sweet little witch that night." Carrasco glanced up at a blank faced Snape. "A comely witch can bring wizards together, don't you think, Master Snape?"

Shit, the serum was wearing off. He shouldn't have been able to ask that of Severus. "Where did Mr Weasley learn of the Ignis Tactus spell and has he used it?"

"He said it was in a book he found. And he said not."

"You don't believe him."

The wizard shrugged.

Carrasco's flesh was free of the modified potion. Fuck. Still she had him for cursing and assaulting Abernathy. Unfortunately, it had also opened the foulness of implicating an old friend.

Hermione lifted her wand and a curl of official magic spiralled up from its tip. "Nicholas Pluvius Carrasco you are formally charged with using a Tactus curse against Apprentice Hortensia Abernathy and sexually assaulting her."

Her magic shot over him, shrouding and denying his own. He hissed at her, twisting in his seat, a futile fight against the ancient spells. A whimper broke from him. _Good_. She hoped it fucking hurt. Hermione slapped her file shut.

"As you have confessed under veritaserum, you will be sentenced tomorrow. I will argue for the maximum penalty."

She pushed back her chair and stood, heading for the door. She didn't look back, aware of Severus in her wake.

Carrasco's voice followed her, still tight with pain. "You can't lift this spell, you know. There's no counter curse and they never find their mates. The witch always burns." The ex-auror's laughter was dark and bitter. "So…do you wonder if he used it on _you_ , Granger?"

The cell door clanged shut and Hermione collapsed against the corridor wall. She breathed. In and out. The familiar cold scent of tile and stone and the edge of fear pushing against her straining senses.

Her fingers dug into her hair. Had he? _Had he_? Was the tension in her flesh, the ache in her skull, in her bones, the constant pull of this fucking curse in her flesh? Fuck. _Fuck_. Had her _friend_ cursed her thinking she was his soul-mate…and thrown her into this nightmare of constant pain?

"Mione…?"

Harry patted her shoulder. She stared at his familiar hand. Had she never realised he was the only man able to touch her now without increasing the pain? They were like siblings. They always had been…

She focused. They still had a job to do. "Bring him in, Harry."

"But…"

She glared at her friend. He was not siding with Ron over this. Not this. "He may have used a tactus spell. He certainly shared his knowledge with a wizard who did." She let out a long breath, her fingers easing back from fisting in her hair. "He has, in all likelihood, used it on me."

Harry blinked. "But…" He frowned. "You've never shown…"

"Headaches? A burning under my skin? Down to my bones?" She snorted a hard and bitter laugh. "Only every fucking day for as long as I can remember." She groaned. "And I kissed him. Once. Only once…and it hurt, like fire and he hissed. Backed away. And gave me a soppy smile…saying, really we should only be friends. Bastard. _Bastard_."

She wiped a hand over hot eyes. Her throat was tight and the ache to cry consumed her. But not there. Not in front of Harry. In front of a silently watching Severus Snape…as what Ron had robbed from her sank in.

Fresh, hot pain suffused her. Not from the curse. Not this time. She could never touch Severus. Not once. Not in the way she ached to do. To play out the little fantasies that caught her in the early hours in her lonely bed. She would burn. As would he, a stabbing pain through both their bodies at even the slightest hint of a sexual touch.

A sob broke from her and she clamped her hand to her mouth, digging her fingers into her jaw.

"Potter, bring Weasley in. I will see to Inspector Granger." Severus' voice was quiet, but sure.

Harry huffed out a breath, but stayed silent as his gaze fixed on Severus. A heartbeat later he looked to her. "Get some rest, Mione." He ran his hand over his messy hair, pushing it back from his forehead. "It's not a part of the Inspectorate investigation now. I will interrogate him." He winced. "You can…observe. Through the spelled wall."

Hermione jerked a nod and pushed herself away from the old tiles. She edged back from touching Severus, terrified that even a simple brush would reveal her secret. Her desperate need for him. And she didn't want to hurt him…but was the pain mutual if the wizard had no desire for her…?

"Come to my office, Hermione."

His voice was a soft and gentle rumble and she bit her lip to deny more tears. He hardly ever used her first name. To use it now was another stabbing reminder of how he could never be hers.

She nodded and willed her feet along the dark and narrow corridor to the lifts.

How was she going to break this to the young auror? Carrasco had sentenced Abernathy to a life alone. Had she had the chance to find love before? To experience something Hermione had not. Would she have that solace, at least?

Hermione had never really thought about finding a relationship. She was all too aware that she terrified wizards. She was clever and magically strong…but they might have overlooked that threat to their male pride if she were pretty. But she wasn't. Plain and bushy-haired, that was Hermione Granger. She held back a sigh. Her work had carried her over her disappointment with Ron and following on hard was her impossible infatuation with Severus. No other wizard had caught her eye. Ever.

And Severus Snape was a wizard she could never have. Would now _never_ have.

Ronald Weasley had killed the tiny spark of hope she'd kindled down the years. Complete bastard.

Severus waved his hand at the lift panel and the metal grille drew back. Hermione stepped inside and he followed her. He pressed the button to his floor.

When had Ron cursed her?

She had kissed Victor Krum with no…side affects. And then there'd been no one till Ron in the Chamber of Secrets. "McLaggan." Her lips pinched together. "He hissed too."

"Hermione?"

"Ron had to have cursed me just before…before Professor Slughorn's party in my Sixth Year. Nine years." Her escaping laugh was bitter, the enormity of Ron's crime against her almost impossible to believe. "At least."

"May I suggest an earlier date?"

"I wouldn't have been seventeen…"

"Age is irrelevant. Ignis Tactus is a dark spell. Meant to entrap. To deny. If the casting witch or wizard cannot have them, then no one can." Severus let out a long breath. "We –the staff at Hogwarts— were…aware of your mutual interest. And of Mr Weasley's jealousy when you took an interest in any wizard other than him. I believe," he paused for a moment, "I believe that he cursed you at the end of your Fourth Year."

Hermione stared at him. Fifteen. He'd cursed at her _fifteen_ because he was stupidly jealous.

"Something impulsive," she murmured. "Then he wavered. What if I _wasn't_ his blessed soul-mate? He then did nothing for three fucking years." She wiped a hand over her face, twitching a smile as Severus offered her a handkerchief. The scent of sandalwood warmed through her. She had that at least. The brief respite even if she could never touch him. Did Abernathy have this in her bakery? A scent that eased the strain in her flesh?

Hermione frowned, her thoughts lurching back to Ron. Why hadn't he followed through earlier to press his...interest? She answered her own question. "This is Ron. He probably forgot all about it."

"Indeed."

The lift juddered to a halt and the grille drew back. "Tea. And there is a quite comfortable camp bed in my office should you require it." A hint of a smile touched his mouth. "I am rarely disturbed."

Hermione echoed his smile with a slight one of her own. She doubted she could rest, but she appreciated the offer. "Thank you."

Moments later, they were settled into the surprisingly cosy room set back from Severus' official office. She sank back into one of the two deeply padded chairs set before his large fireplace. A whispered spell and a flare of flame warmed her legs, mixing more gold into the soft candlelight. She pulled in a breath and eased it out. Yes, like Abernathy's bakery, she could breathe in this place.

Severus handed her a large mug of tea. She sipped, letting the heat and familiar taste slid into her flesh. "How did you get this place?"

His dark eyes gleamed over his mug. The ache in her chest, the need for him was a tight pulse before she could shove it down again. "Guilt." His lips twitched. "More precisely, _other people's_ guilt."

Hermione smiled, soft laughter escaping her. "Well, their guilt is deserved."

"Perhaps."

The pop and spit of the fire was the only sound to break the silence that fell. It was easy to simply sit, to soak in the peace of Severus' room…but she had to work, to think. And in this place, her brain was free of the constant ache. She could think clearly for once. She frowned into her mug. "What do you know about this curse, Severus? Is Carrasco lying?"

"There is no counter curse." His dark gaze fixed on her and something moved there. Hermione didn't want to label it pity. "So little knowledge of it remains. It was banned in the 1600s."

"But somehow the bibliophobe Ronald Weasley found it."

She looked around the shadowed room and felt the flow of air in and out of her lungs. No aches. No burning tension. Herself as she used to be. Something she'd almost forgotten.

"Was there anything about certain places? Abernathy said the fire in her flesh eased in a bakery on Diagon Alley. And I…" She held his gaze, wanting to blame the heat in her face on the fire, "I find peace here. In the Forensic Section. I never realised it. I honestly thought it was just being away from the glares of the aurors." Her smile was wry. Deflective. "I'm not exactly popular with them."

But she had to admit to herself, it wasn't just the place. Not simply that. The ache for _him_ was there too.

The familiar dark line formed between Severus' brows. He put his mug down onto the little side table and traced a long finger over his lips. His eyes were distant.

Hermione watched the movement, caught by it, wishing her own fingers could draw over his firm mouth and follow it with her own lips…

"A magical place…?" Severus' frown deepened and he focused on her, tight and fierce. "Or perhaps—"

The glaring, silvered light of a patronus burst across the room, Harry's stag stamping a hoof for attention. _"Mione, I have Ron in Interrogation Room Six. Come now."_

Hermione put her mug on the table as Harry's patronus vanished into wisps of silver. Her moment of peace was at an end.

Now it was time to send a former friend to Azkaban.

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Let me know what you think! :)


	4. Chapter 4

Closing in on the end. There's -I think- 2 chapters after this. I'm not dragging this one out! ;-)

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"What's this all about, Harry?"

Ron fidgeted in his seat. His shoulder nudged at the magical shield wrapped around his chair. He grimaced and twitched some more. The magic rippled under his touch and he shrank back from its increasing sting.

Hermione hadn't seen him for years. Three at least. He looked well. His clothes had an expensive cut, his hair was thick and neat. He was living well. A curl of anger twisted in her belly. He was enjoying his life. And obviously bedding any witch he liked…as he fixed her in a hell of his making.

Ron frowned at the flickering shield. "I have an early start tomorrow. Fred and George are doing a stock take. They turn up dressed as twin Umbridges…" He cracked a lopsided smile. "You should see it, mate. It's mental."

Unsmiling, Harry sat forward, resting his arms on the table that separated them. "It's about Nicholas Carrasco, Ron."

Their old friend ran shaking fingers through his thick, red hair. There was a tremor there, caught as his hand balled into a fist. Hermione frowned and she pressed herself closer to the spelled wall. She gripped the sill, her knuckles whitened. Was Ron aware of how bad it was going to get?

"Nicky? He's a good bloke. We meet up for drinks once in a while. He's one of yours. A smart auror."

"Tell me about the Ignis Tactus, Ron."

Ron paled before a mottled flush worked its way over his face and neck. "Harry…"

"He's gone down for using it on a fellow auror."

Ron's mouth opened and closed before he wiped a trembling hand across his lips. "Look, Harry, mate. I was drunk. And I just…I just mentioned this old spell I'd read years' back. It never work—I've never used it. I _haven't_. It's supposed to reveal your soul-mate. That's all. That's all it does. Honest."

"Come on, Ron. You know it does more than that."

Ron frowned. A little too hard. "No mate. Just a pointer to your soul-mate. That's all the book said."

"He's lying," Severus murmured. He was a dark and steady shadow at her side. "Weasley knows exactly what it does."

Staring at her former friend, Hermione agreed with him.

"Shall I tell you what it does then, Ron?" Harry fixed sharp eyes on his friend. "The witch burns. All day and all night. Headaches and pain. They're constant. And if anyone touches her, fire rages under her skin. There is no counter curse and only her soul-mate can ease it. But how can she find her soul-mate when every touch is agony?"

"I…"

"Where did you find the spell, Ron?"

"Harry…"

Harry held up a tiny, labelled vial. Standard issue veritaserum. "Any more…obstruction and I administer this. Am I understood?"

Ron put up his hands, shrinking back into his seat. Sweat beaded his hairline and his face was mottled dark red. "I'm not obstructing. Honest. But you have to understand. Harry. I can't—"

Harry cracked the seal, reached across the narrow table, grabbed Ron's jaw and dumped the contents onto his friend's tongue. He slapped his friend's mouth shut. Ron had to swallow.

Harry sank back into his chair, his face pale. It was always hard when it was a friend on the other side of the interrogation table. Though Hermione was feeling little sympathy for Ronald Weasley by the second.

"I can't believe you just did that to me, Harry! You do realise who I am to you?" Ron's face had sunk into a deeper, almost threatening shade of red. He slammed his hands against his chair's armrests. " _I_ was the first proper wizard you ever met…"

"It's a shame I couldn't offer a vial of my improved veritaserum." Severus' murmur was soft and wry. "It stops this self-pitying verbal diarrhoea."

Hermione twitched a smile. "It would be a blessing."

She let out a sigh, wondering when Harry would silence their former friend. The longer he waited, the sooner Ron's rage would drive the potion from his system…but there was guilt in Harry's eyes. Ron was spouting the truth as _he_ saw it. Not as it was. Even veritaserum needed a nudge of interpretation.

With a flick of his wand, Harry slapped a silencio on Ron. "You will speak only as pertains to this case and the questions I put to you." His voice was strained, his shoulders tight. Ron was obviously still bitter about his relationship with and to the 'Chosen One'.

Harry lifted the spell. "Where did you find the Ignis Tactus curse?"

"In a book."

Ron's fingers dug into the armrests, his knuckles white as he fought to deny the potion in his blood. There was obviously no regret on his part that he'd ruined her life. He was sitting in that chair desperate to save his own skin.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "Where was the book? Its title? Who owned it?"

"Securing the Soul, I think it was called. It was in…George's trunk."

Hermione hissed in a breath, as did Harry. George Weasley was involved with this too?

Ron grimaced. "I can explain. I can." He crushed his eyes shut, sweat thick on his skin. Hermione could almost smell his increasing desperation through the thick wall. "They –Fred and George— had detention with Moody. He got called out of his office." Ron's face collapsed into self-pity. "You know what they're like, Harry. How much did they slip past Filch? They had a replicating spell. And they managed to copy four of Moody's books before he came back."

Harry shook his head. "He was Barty Crouch Jr, Ron."

"We know that _now_ , Harry. Merlin, I'm not stupid."

Severus snorted. "I have yet to see evidence to the contrary, Weasley."

"This was just after the that shitty Yule Ball." Ron's face darkened. "Fucking hated that thing. Those clothes. _Her_." He shook his head and Harry didn't press. But there was the old jealousy rearing again.

"Fred and George looked through the books. I caught them at it. George said they were dark stuff, really dark stuff, and that he was going to hide them away until he had a safe way to get rid of them." Ron huffed a sour laugh. "I knew better. He just didn't want me looking at them."

"So you sneaked a look?"

"Yeah. That's when I found Ignis Tactus."

"And you decided to use it?"

"No. I didn't—" He hissed and his neck bulged. "Not…not—"

Harry glared at him. "When did you curse Mione?"

Ron gritted his teeth. "I—"

Harry smacked his hand against the table, lurching forward to fix a hard stare at this friend. " _When!"_

"After she agreed to be Krum's penpal!"

Ron slapped his hand to his mouth. He rocked in his chair. His face reddened and a tear streaked down his cheek. "I did it wrong, Harry. I did it _wrong_. I tried to find the book again, I did, but it was gone. _Gone_. When…when I kissed her, it was fire. I'm her soul-mate. I am. We're soul-mates."

Harry's mouth tightened. "Why did you tell Carrasco about it, if you didn't think it worked?"

"He was going on and on about this auror. How beautiful she was. How she was meant for him. How it pissed him off to think of her with someone else." Ron's lip curled. "He was spoiling a good drink. So…I told him. I said it didn't work. I did. It isn't my fault he used it."

Hermione stared at Ron. The absolute prick. He'd known the curse still held her. That it stopped _her_ from finding someone other than him and that _he_ was _fine_ with that. Anger flared and twisted, firing through her chest. He hadn't –still didn't— give a shit that he'd condemned two witches to a life of pain and solitude. Bastard—

In a burst of raging power, Hermione found herself in the interrogation room. "You prick, Ronald Weasley. You are not my soul-mate. _Never_."

"Mione!" Harry jerked back from the table and towards her. "You can't be in here."

Magic surged around her, her hair wild with static. "I don't give a _fuck_ about his sentencing."

Ron was cringing back in his seat, staring at her, his eyes wide and terrified.

"You, you little shit, have robbed me of my life. Of touch. Of…of _love_." She broke through the shield surrounding him and fisted his hair. Yes, he still wanted her. Bastard. Fire chased under her flesh, white hot and searing. Agony lashed her—

But strong hands yanked her back and the rage of fire died away.

"He is not worth the pain it costs you."

Severus' voice was a balm to her pained flesh. She closed her eyes. The heat of his body wrapped around her, his arms sure and protecting. She wanted to sink back against him. Lose herself in the rare feeling of peaceful warmth…

Hermione stiffened. He was touching her…and nothing. No flare of fire. Oh gods… _His touch was the same as Harry's._ Severus…he didn't desire her. Not even a little bit. She closed her eyes as her tired heart cracked that little bit more. She should be thankful. But in that moment, it was a bitter truth to hold.

Hermione pulled away and let out a long breath, taking no satisfaction in Ron's tear-streaked face as the curse obviously still flared hot in his flesh. "You're right. He isn't worth it."

"You took pleasure in the fact that no one else could have her, didn't you, Weasley?" Severus smooth voice was low and hard. " _Didn't you?_ _"_

The corner of Ron's mouth curled up. Tight. Bitter. "Why would I? It's been years and she hasn't even _noticed_."

"Charge him, Harry."

She turned away, but Severus caught her hand. His fingers were warm, the tips callused. His thumb stroked against her palm. And it wasn't her curse that lanced new pain through her chest. She bit her lip to deny tears. "Master Snape…"

Severus slid a hard look to Ron. "Surprised as we all are, Weasley, you performed the spell correctly."

Hermione frowned up at him and then looked back to his hand. She blinked. Her heartbeat was a drum, its fierce rush making her thoughts swim. No. No, he wasn't saying… She was imagining it. He didn't think of her that way. Not _her_. Plain, wild-haired with barely a kiss to her name—

"Hermione…"

Severus wrapped her name in warm velvet, but she couldn't meet his eyes. In case she was wrong. In case she'd gone completely and utterly mad and Severus would simply roll his eyes at her presumption that he, _he_ could be her… "You're my…" She wet her lips, the words dying on her tongue.

Severus tipped up her chin as Ron's shrieked " _No!"_ rattled across her straining senses. A hint of a smile touched _her_ wizard's mouth.

"Would you want me, witch?"

Want him? _Want him?_ Was Ron's idiocy _catching_?

Hermione lifted a trembling hand, her fingers ghosting along the sharp plain of Severus' jaw before she found the courage to make contact. She stopped breathing. The warm prickle of unshaved skin teased her fingertips, her senses fired, overwhelmed… Even without an awareness of the curse, how long was it since she'd touched someone? Anyone? Never mind a wizard for whom she ached.

She swallowed, suddenly shy and nervous. "I want…I want you very much, Severus Snape."

Severus' eyes briefly fluttered shut, the sooty curve of his eyelashes mesmerising against the sharp, pale plane of his cheeks. He really was so very striking… Dark eyes held her, desire thick in their endless black.

His head dipped. Was he…was he going to…?

Smooth lips brushed hers and a golden wave of warmth flowed over her flesh, her bones and the sudden lightness, the freedom broke a gasp from her. Severus smiled against her mouth, a sweet curve that made her grin in return.

"I believe the curse is now broken," he murmured. A spark of devilment danced in his eyes and Hermione had the sudden and real urge to throw herself at him. "Let us continue this…conversation in a more _private_ setting, shall we?"

" _Snape?_ Her soul-mate is fucking _Snape?_ " Ron cried out as the shield cut into his shoulders. "Fuck. No. _No!_ I did that spell wrong. I had to. There is no way _he_ gets to fu—"

Harry lashed a _silencio_ at a foaming Ron and the shrouding magic that would confine Ron's power swirled from his wand. "Ronald Bilius Weasley you are formally charged with using a Tactus curse against Inspector Hermione Jean Granger…"

Hermione wasn't listening. Severus had lifted her hand and his beautiful mouth brushed a delicious little kiss across her knuckles. She smirked at him and the almost-innocent naughtiness of her wanted question warmed through her. For the first time ever, she murmured, "Your place or mine?"

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Let me know what you think! :)


	5. Chapter 5

I know. Complete slackness on my part, but writing is slow on all fronts at the moment. Sorry

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Hermione trotted up the stone steps to her little flat above a small apothecary off Diagon Alley. Severus was silent in her wake. Not that she would've been able to hear him over the wild thud of her heart.

He was her soul-mate.

 _Hers_.

Which, logically meant that Apprentice Abernathy's soul-mate was a member of staff or a morning patron of the bakery that dimmed the curse fire in her flesh…

But that was a fact for the morning, when they could maximise the chance of finding him. Right then, she had to deal with her own world being turned so very nicely on its head.

Hermione eased the wards on her front door, stepped inside the candlelit hall and gave her wizard a quick and nervous smile. "Please, come in, Severus."

His slow smile set off the flutter of pixie wings in her belly and no more words escaped from her as he crossed the threshold.

She shut the door behind him, shrugged out of her coat and scurried into her little sitting room that looked out over the cobbled street. A wave of her wand light a few candles… Was that too bright? Or too dark? Maybe flick out another one. After all, she didn't want the brilliant flare of the interrogation cell—

"Hermione…"

Severus' voice was a wrap of dark velvet and he stroked a thumb across her knuckles. The lightest of touches, but her rush of anxiety fell away and she felt almost…boneless.

He guided her onto her small couch and sat next to her. Close enough that their knees touched. The single point of contact flared over her, warmed and wanted. There was no pain…but then around Severus there had always been a lull in the constant thud of her head or the ache in her bones. Now she knew it was because he was _hers_ …

Hermione smiled at him and his dark eyes were a spark of brilliance in the candlelight. She looked to her knotted fingers, her inexperience biting at her. "As you may have gathered, Severus, I'm not sure where we go from here."

He eased one of her hands free and his gaze fixed on his thumb as it chased a line over the peaks and valleys of her knuckles. There and back…almost soothingly hypnotic. "You have fascinated me for more years than I should admit to, Hermione Granger."

His smile was sly, an edge of wickedness that jumped her pulse…and one of his long fingers was at her wrist. His smile sharpened. He'd felt her response. Wicked indeed.

"We will touch, you and I. Simply the lightest of caresses. Here. See, the trace of my fingers along the inner plane of your arm."

His voice was a soft rumble, delicious, mesmerising and he drew a slow, _slow_ line up over her skin to the crease of her elbow. Dark eyes fixed on her, too aware of how his delicate caress shortened her breath and swirled her thoughts.

"Or _here_."

He swept a slow finger along the line of her neck, startling her, her gaze jerking up to his. And his careful touch, just the very tip of his index finger, drew along the edge of her jaw.

Even for so light a caress, sensation flared under her skin, her pulse rioting, her mouth parted and the ache, the ache for more of him burned a fresh, new and absolutely delicious pain through her flesh.

"Gods, Severus…"

It was little more than a broken whisper, her eyes fluttering shut. His scent wove around her, the warmth and security of sandalwood mixed with something uniquely…him.

"What do you want from me, witch?"

His beautiful voice was a rich, dark chocolate, low and heated, sinking deep down into her bones… He was so close she could almost feel him, his heat, the pulse of his magic. What did she want from him?

"Everything."

Severus' soft laughter curved her own smile. "So difficult to satisfy."

Her eyes flicked open and he was close, the endless dark of his eyes catching her, holding her. A trembling hand lifted and she dared to stroke the curve of his cheek. Cautious. Still terrified that her need for him would chase fire into his flesh.

"Rough." The word escaped her. He always looked so smooth, as if his features were cut from the finest marble. "You're rough."

"It's late in the day. I have not shaved for a good few hours."

Her gaze dropped. "The last time I touched a boy's face —a male face— without pain, I don't think he'd begun to shave."

"Hermione, there's no rush." When she looked up again, a wry smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. "I am _not_ a boy. We will proceed at the pace you require." He pressed the lightest of kissed to her forehead and her heart squeezed so tight she almost gasped. "It is that simple."

She pinched her lips together to deny the hot run of tears. Her day was a wild see-saw of emotions. Horrified anger tipping into a raw state of bliss. And it was exhausting. Weariness sat on her. She wanted sleep, but more than that, she ached to be held.

"Will you…"

She bit her lip, wanting him to understand her request, to realise that as much she wanted him —very possibly _loved_ him— she wasn't ready to…to sleep with him. Not in _that_ way.

It was probably best to be a Gryffindor about things and she pulled her courage up by its bootstraps. "It's been so long since anyone held me, Severus. And I'm so very tired. Will you, could you _sleep_ with me?" Her face burned and she fixed her gaze on his knee. " _Just_ sleep."

He rose from the couch and offered his hand. "And how would you want me, Miss Granger? Stripped bare?"

She huffed a soft laugh and slipped her fingers willingly over his. "You are a wicked man, Severus Snape."

He brought her hand to his mouth, the brush of his lips slow and…heavenly. Dark eyes met hers. Hot and utterly devilish. "You truly have _no_ idea."

Hermione's belly gave a little flip-flop, the thought there, just for a hot second, that she would very gladly get Severus naked. Very naked. And dive headlong into all of those wicked things…

He released her hand, but the ghost of his touch lingered. "You wish me to stay the whole night?" That gleam was back at her nod. "Then, I need to collect some things." He stepped back from her. "I will return shortly."

"All right."

And he was gone.

Hermione let out a long, shaky breath. She scrubbed at her face and stared around her little sitting room. He'd truly been there. It wasn't simply her overwrung imagination…? No, his scent was there and she drew it into her lungs, held it deep.

He was coming back.

He was…

She squeaked. It'd been a long day in the bowels on the Ministry and she needed a good scrub. Shit, what condition were her legs in? Her pulse drumming, she whipped out her wand and twirled it, the magic of her body-tailored depilatory spell a rushing tingle.

A moment later, she was stripped and in the shower for the fastest skin scrub and moisturise in her entire life. After a quick brush of her teeth, a spell dried her hair into a wild cloud of curls, whilst another whipped it into the loose plait she wore for bed.

"Argh! What to _wear_ …?"

The desperate rifle through her drawers produced blue sleep shorts and a tanktop.

Hermione stared at herself in the mirror, so pale and scarred, odd-shaped and flat-chested... Her wild excitement plummeted. Yes, Severus was _hers_ —and she wrapped her arms around her waist, her arms tight against her exposed stomach— but would he find pleasure in _this_? Hermione winced. She should cover up, but she wanted skin. Lots of skin, his and hers, mingling, _touching_.

The rapid knock at her front door —she supposed it was a good thing she hadn't yet added him to her wards— broke her from her staring. She grabbed her dressing gown, cinched it tight and scurried to let him in.

Severus Snape filled the doorway and her belly did its usual excited little flip. Moonlight gilded him, edging in silver the slight curl to still damp hair. He had obviously had the same idea to scrub till he shone.

Hurriedly, she stepped back as she realised she was gawping and he was still standing on her doorstep. "The bedroom's through here." Her face grew hot. This was all so beyond her experience. And as a grown witch, it was just that little bit mortifying. A flare of anger chased hot through her chest. She hoped Ron _enjoyed_ his years in Azkaban for making her so…gauche with those she wanted.

Her bedroom door closed and Hermione's shoulders tightened. Which was insane. She'd fantasised about this moment for years, yet the reality of having him in her room –and soon in her bed— ramped her anxiety—

 _No_. No, more fear. No more pain. She shoved her nerves down and willed her body loose.

"Good girl," Severus murmured, dipping to brush his lips against her neck. She shivered, the heat of desire fluttering low in her belly. "Tonight will be about comfort and warmth and the simple pleasure of my skin against yours."

Hermione almost groaned. "Your voice…"

"My one beauty."

She turned, quick and angered. Her hand found his cheek and it was now as smooth as she'd always imagined it to be, a tempting, heated silk. "No. Not at all. There are _many_ beautiful things about you, Severus Snape."

He grinned, the shift there under her palm. "Poor deluded girl. Our bond has you quite…addled."

Hermione huffed at him and turned away to untie her dressing gown. Her hands trembled. Behind her, the shift of cloth and buttons said he was undressing too. One boot and then another thudded against her thick rug.

Her heart was a drum, but she willed the silk of the dressing gown to slither over her shoulders and pool at her feet. Her head bowed…until Severus' large hands cupped her upper arms. Another kiss found her bare shoulder.

"No one has ever kissed me there."

"When you are ready," his voice was dark, heady and his breath prickled her skin, "there will be not an inch left on you unkissed. I promise you."

Hermione had to ask, before she fell further for the dark wizard. Before he became everything she could ever want. She'd followed his press. There was no comparison between her and the witches who'd hung from his arm since the end of the war against Voldemort.

"You're…pleased about this bond, Severus?"

He eased around her and she fought to look at his face, as her gaze ached to take in the long length of his body. The impression of alabaster skin, of silvered scars on a lean, fit frame. Of tight shorts and a rather prominent—

Severus placed his finger under her chin and tilted her face up. He smirked at her. Oh, he'd been very aware of the direction of her gaze. Shit, she was certain her face was on fire.

"Naughty little witch."

Hermione groaned, but with his smirk still in place, Severus teased a kiss from her.

"I am more than happy." Something changed in his eyes, the edge of humour falling away. He let out a long breath. His lips twitched upwards. "I never thought…" He gave a loose shrug. "You seemed so contained, as if you never needed anyone. I believed…you already had everything —and everyone— you wanted in your life. And my role was to be your respected colleague. Even as I desired so much more."

Hermione stepped closer and sighed as his arms wrapped around her, drawing her against the length of his body. The rise of magic glistened and swirled, chasing a soul-deep warmth into her flesh and she rested her head against his bare chest. His heart thudded under her ear. Strong and slow. Sure. There for her. For _them_.

He placed a kiss on her hair. "Let's go to bed, Hermione."

Reluctantly, she eased back. Her bed, a huge wooden thing with the most perfect mattress, her haven against the constant pain in her flesh, loomed even larger in the small room. Taking a calming breath, she pulled down the heavy blankets. The sheet-heating charm flashed across the bottom sheet. "Which side do you sleep on?"

"No side. I tend to…sprawl."

No doubt as he intended, that worked a smile from her.

The candles dimmed as she climbed into her high bed, the alien dip of a following Severus tightening her chest again. He spooned around her, tangling legs, his arms around her with one hand under her breasts, the other a hot palm against her bare stomach. She threaded her slim fingers over his, that simple intimacy sealing the fine cracks in her heart.

His scent, the delicious press of acres of his hot skin against hers, his rather fine nose nuzzled into her neck and the soothing rhythm of his breath brushing across her skin… It was everything. Comfort. Home. More than her desperate fantasies could ever hold.

Gods, it was pure, _pure_ bliss.

"Sleep, Hermione. I will be here in the morning."

Morning. When they would solve Apprentice Abernathy's curse.

Hermione closed her eyes. And slept the first peaceful, pain-free sleep in years.

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As ever, let me know what you think! :)


	6. Chapter 6

*does the fic-finished dance*

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Hermione stood outside the sliver of grey and white frontage that was _Master Mathias's Bread and Bun Emporium_ and frowned up at the sign. Was it little wonder she'd never ventured inside with that as the name of his business? Though with the ease of pain and a clear head for the first time in over a decade, she _did_ find it funny.

She drew in a long breath and the rich, warm odour of fresh bread eased though her senses. Yes, there was no ache. No pain.

Long fingers squeezed her hand and she smiled up at Severus.

She'd woken that morning, spooned against him, his delicious skin, so much of it, pressed around her body. He'd kissed her shoulder and her heart had squeezed, tight and hard and been chased with a swift hit of bliss.

His soft, warm, "Are you well this morning, witch?" had turned her in his arms and she'd snuggled —properly _snuggled_ for the first time in her life— against his acres of bare flesh.

Severus had sighed and held her until they were forced to crawl out of her perfectly good bed and start the day.

A shock of black hair off to her left broke in to her pleasant thoughts. _Harry_. And with him the drawn, grey form of Apprentice Abernathy. Hermione's heart squeezed for the girl, and she hoped —she offered up prayers to Merlin, Nimue and any one else listening— that Hortensia's soul-mate had decided to come to the bakery that morning.

"Hermione." Harry winced. "Snape." But then he froze, his gaze darting across her hand held tight in Severus'. He looked up to her and a frown grew, pinching his lips. He looked just like his dragon of a mother-in-law. "I told Abernathy what we believed. That her soul-mate," he rubbed at his jaw, his eyes on their threaded fingers again, "yes, that, is very likely inside."

Abernathy drew in a breath. "Good morning, Inspector Granger, Master Snape."

She lifted her shoulders, but a weariness sat on her and Hermione ached for the young witch. _She_ had her wizard. The one who banished the curse. Hermine was all too aware of how lucky she was.

"I don't know who it could be."

"Then let's find out."

Hermione reluctantly released Severus' hand and waved the Apprentice before her into the bakery. She glanced back, realising she was leaving Severus with Harry…and Severus' gleaming eyes promised mischief. _Wicked man_. He would delight in poking at Harry's horror of their being together. Of being absolutely right for each other.

Well…they were grown wizards. They could be as silly as they liked. And she found that with pain banished from her mind and flesh, she was happy to leave them to it. She had work to do.

The bakery had a well-crafted extension charm that billowed out the space, so a multitude of marble-topped tables were spread out beside the long length of a counter crammed with every bread and cake and pastry imaginable. Candle light shone down from heavy chandeliers, warming the soft golden brick of the high walls. And the scents. Hermione drew them in, almost lost to the bliss of warmth and spices.

"I can see why you come here."

But Abernathy wasn't listening. Her cheeks were bright and the heavy weariness had lifted from her. She looked like her file photograph, bright and young and happy.

Hermione's heart swelled. Her soul-mate was there. Somewhere.

"Whoever it is, they're here."

Abernathy jerked a nod. "I don't know…" She pressed a hand to her mouth and a muffled, "Oh, Merlin" cut out from between her fingers. She closed her eyes and her shoulders sagged.

"Hortensia?"

"I…I have admired…" She shuck her head. "But they are already so very committed. How can I…?"

"Who?"

Her gaze darted to the corner, to the shadows, where sat… Hermione wanted to join the Apprentice in her cursing. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Luna Lovegood at a table littered with their breakfast dishes. Kingsley, stern and serious, but holding a warmth in his dark eyes that Hermione had once envied, with his long fingers wrapped around a large mug of coffee and Luna, bright and ethereal, chattering away.

 _Fuck_.

They'd been a couple since the first Ball celebrating the end of Voldemort. The scandal of the Minister and the flighty Ravenclaw war heroine had splashed across _The Prophet_ …and they ignored it. And carried on…and on. They're been together almost six years.

There was a solidity to their relationship. It almost shone—

Oh… _oh_.

This was about to get interesting.

Hermione placed a gentle hand on Hortensia's arm and urged her forward.

"Inspector…"

"Trust me." Hermione stopped at their table and smiled. "Luna, Kingsley, this is Apprentice Hortensia Abernathy."

With a flick of her wand, Hermione shrouded them in a privacy charm and Kingsley frowned up at her. "What's this about, Hermione?"

"A curse. A foul curse, one that I believe, you," and beside her Abernathy gasped, her hand at her mouth again and her cheeks quite pink, "can help her with. An auror inflicted the _Ignis Tactus_ curse on her."

Luna's eyes widened. "The Burning Curse? No… _no_." Her chair clattered back and she was on her feet, her arms around Abernathy and her mouth…

Luna paused, a ghosting of her lips over the young auror's parted mouth. "May I?"

It was a husky question, to which Abernathy gave the barest of nods and the kiss was slow and sweet, a gentle tasting that broke a sigh from them both. Luna pressed a pale hand to Hortensia's cheek, her light eyes warm with affection. "Better?"

Abernathy was staring. Simply staring. She pressed trembling fingers to her lips as Kingsley stood.

"My turn, I believe?"

And the startled Apprentice was wrapped in Kingsley's strong arms, his mouth finding hers in a much more _thorough_ kiss than Luna's. The Ravenclaw shook her head, her smile bright as her wizard let their new witch up for air.

Abernathy was flushed and trembling. "I never… I saw you, saw you both…and I thought I was envying your togetherness, not, not _wanting_ …"

"Luna knew." Kingsley's voice was a dark rumble and he eased back a tendril of Abernathy's loosened hair and Hermione's heart squeezed as the young witch leant into his gentle touch. "Luna, you will find, knows far too much." He grinned with affection at his other witch. "But you're what —only nineteen?— and we wanted to wait before we claimed you as ours."

He looked to Hermione. Anger tightened his mouth. Yes, Kingsley looked after his own. "Who cursed her?"

"Carrasco. He's being sentenced today. Minimum of ten years in Azkaban. I will push for more."

Kingsley's growled "Good" mixed with Luna's sudden groan.

"How did I not see? Oh, Hermione. You. _You_ were cursed." She found herself pulled into a hard hug by her old friend. "It's gone now. But…any _tactus_ is so hard to see. I'm sorry. So sorry."

Hermione returned her hug and pulled away. The was no fire, there never was with people who didn't…want her in that way, but still, touching had simply become something she'd…stopped doing. "It's all cleared. Done with. And, you'll no doubt find out today, that it was Ron. He's been charged."

Kingsley blinked, ran a hand over his bald head and squeezed his new witch to him. She squeaked and he smiled down at her. "Join us for breakfast." He looked to Hermione. "Both of you."

Hermione smiled her thanks. "I have other plans. Enjoy your day."

Luna grinned at her, her eyes sparkling. "Oh, we will."

Hermione was certain her was face was on fire as she pulled open the door to the bakery and stepped out again into Diagon Alley. Luna, Kingsley and Hortensia would most definitely be having a rather…interesting time.

The scandal would swallow them up, but Hermione doubted they cared for even a heartbeat.

The shine had been there between them, something fixed…and right.

Though what was not right was Harry James Potter, with his face scrunched and red, pointing his wand at one Severus Snape. She scrubbed her hand over her face and let out a sigh. Severus had his arms crossed with no sign of his wand, but with little to no effort, he was making that simple stance look insulting and insolent.

"Harry—"

"He said…" Harry gritted his teeth, aware—finally—that they were being stared at by too many people. "He said such things, Hermione. Why are you with him? He can touch you? So what? I have, and nothing, nothing… _burned_ with me."

Hermione slipped her fingers into the tight crease of Severus elbow. His arm shifted to wrap around her, pulling her into the strength of his body, his heat, the familiar scents that threaded down into her flesh and eased…everything.

She smiled and Harry blinked at her. "What did you say to him, Severus?"

"I said," and his voice was a low purr that chased away that ease and replaced it with something so much more delicious, "that you are now my witch, and as my witch, I will delight in _feasting_ upon you."

Hermione bit her lip, fresh heat scalding her face. "You…would?" And she couldn't fight the little catch in her voice, the doubt that it was real, even as she touched him, as he touched _her_.

His hand was on her jaw, his thumb stroking her bottom lip. His mouth dipped to hers, his breath a warm tease over her tingling lips. "When you are ready, my witch, when you are ready, I will chase kisses across every inch of your skin. I will bring you every pleasure. _Every one_. I promise you this." He pulled back, his endless eyes hot and focused. "We are forever, Hermione. Always."

Hermione sucked in a tight breath and buried her face against his frockcoat, clinging to him, even as she shook.

"And now, look, you've made her cry."

Severus turned her away from Harry, shielding her. "You really are an idiot of the most staggering proportions, Potter."

Hermione huffed a laugh against Severus' chest and pulled in a long, steadying breath. She eased back from her wizard, though her hand stayed pressed to his black-robed chest. "Go home, Harry. Apprentice Abernathy has her soul-mates—"

"Mates? _Plural_? What…?"

"Mates," Hermione repeated. "And I have _my_ mate right here. Ron is on remand, as is Carrasco? And will be sentenced today?" Harry nodded. "Then all is right with the world."

" _Right?_ " It came out as a squeak. "You and…" He flicked his wand at Severus, "and… _Snape?_ "

"What time is the sentencing?"

Harry was obviously having trouble processing the new shifts to his world as he frowned and used his wand to scratch through his hair. "Three, this afternoon. _In camera_. Because of the nature of the parties."

Ron's cursing her would explode over the papers, regardless of the Wizengamot trying to hush it up. There would be a riot of interest around all of it. The wizards' guilt…and who the cursed witches soul-mates proved to be. It was an impending disaster...and Hermione wanted to be far, _far_ away when it broke.

"Can you get time off, Severus? From tomorrow?"

She realised what she was asking for and her heart turned over. Time with simply...him. _Alone_. And when...when she was ready, for him to delight in his…feasting.

His smile was wicked and her mouth dried. "Oh, I can indeed."

The End

* * *

I know I Luna/Kingsley'd again...but I like them as a couple. It's the same as my ability to accidently Drarry all over the place. I offer no excuse ;-)


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